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Inevitable
Michelle Rowen


Paranormal investigator and erotic novelist Emma Black is at a masquerade ball and looking for a coveted lust potion. Unexpectedly, she bumps into her former partner, the ridiculously sexy (oh so sexy!) Ryan Shephard. And, for added bonus temptation points, the rare lust potion is splashed on both of them - with instantaneously hot results!But is the incredible, mind-blowing sex between them only the result of the potion? Or are Emma and Ryan simply giving in to the inevitable?









“Kiss me,” Ryan said.


Emma’s heart pounded hard. “Bad idea.”

He had the audacity to smile at her. She felt his gaze on her like a brand. It slid over her breasts and stomach, and her insides tightened with an unwanted but impossible-to-ignore desire.

“See, I knew you knew words other than no, Em.”

“I need to get out of here.” But she didn’t move. They were alone in the library of Xavier Franklin’s mansion with a party going on outside the heavy closed doors. She could hear the voices, the laughter, the band playing some classical number.

“So, you’re still maintaining that you hate me,” Ryan said.

She nodded. “I can’t stand you.”

“But you want me.”

Unfortunately, yes. Damn it.

It was Emma who closed the distance between them. Her mind was foggy, but her body knew what it wanted. It wanted Ryan. It had wanted Ryan since almost the first moment she’d met him. And the lust potion, just a small splash of it, had heightened that need inside of her to an uncontrollable level.

Just because it was inconvenient didn’t mean it wasn’t true.







Dear Reader,

I think some things are Inevitable.

When Emma and Ryan—both agents for the Paranormal Investigation and Recovery Agency—met, it was difficult for them to keep their hands off each other. But between maintaining their self-control and holding on to a friendship they found too valuable to risk destroying with a fling, things just didn’t work out. As they meet again after six months apart, the sparks fly…but they still have those pesky walls getting in the way of their happiness.

That’s why I’m here! (evil laugh) I like to give my reluctant characters a little push in the right direction. For Emma and Ryan, I chose a lust potion. Instead of waiting for things to happen naturally, they fall into each other’s arms…and bed!

Between misunderstandings, magic potions, heartbroken ghosts, stolen goods and masquerade parties, I think they just might find their way toward their very sexy—and inevitable—happily ever after!

I hope you enjoy Emma and Ryan’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please visit my website anytime at www.michellerowen.com. I love hearing from readers!

Happy reading!

Michelle Rowen




Inevitable

Michelle Rowen










ABOUT THE AUTHOR


National bestselling author Michelle Rowen writes all sorts of paranormal romance—light and dark, sexy and sweet, and has won an RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award and a Holt Medallion for her work. A voracious but picky reader, TV viewer and movie watcher, she prefers all her entertainment to include a happily ever after…or else! Michelle lives in Southern Ontario. Inevitable is her third foray into the marvelously sexy fictional world that is Harlequin Blaze. Please visit her online at www.michellerowen.com.


For Eve, Jackie, Jill, Michele, Charlene, and Megan.

Write on, ladies!




Contents


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18




1


“I’D BET YOU’VE NEVER SEEN one this big before, have you?”

Emma Black forced a smile to her face. “Wow. It’s really big.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Eighty-year-old billionaire Xavier Franklin gently placed the eighteen-inch-tall antique perfume bottle on a shelf along with other examples of his priceless glassware collection. The brightly lit glass and chrome showroom felt more like something out of a museum than one that would be found in a private home. “But enough about my hobbies, I’ve been monopolizing your time for far too long. You likely want to get back to the party, don’t you?”

No. What Emma really wanted was to get her hands on the potion bottle she’d been sent here, to New York City, to retrieve. When she’d arrived at Franklin’s twelvethousand-square-foot mansion on Central Park West, it had seemed like such a simple assignment.

That had been two hours ago.

She’d arrived to find one of Franklin’s infamous masquerade parties going on. She’d read about them before—glitzy events put on by a man who still thought of himself as one of the city’s most eligible bachelors. With a lot of time on his hands and a ton of money at his disposal, his parties had become the place for the most beautiful and important people in the Manhattan social scene to meet up, drink fountains of champagne, and— Well, whatever happened, happened.

And here she was, being given the grand tour by the eighty-year-old bachelor himself. She supposed she should feel honored. There weren’t a lot of glitzy parties in Mystic Ridge, the town where she lived, unless you counted going for a few drinks at the local bar.

Since Emma had arrived sans costume, she’d been handed a mask at the door. The billionaire also wore a mask, a green one with a large feather.

“Actually, Mr. Franklin—” she said, wanting to move things along.

“Please, my dear. Call me Xavier.”

It was obvious he’d had a few too many glasses of champagne. He grinned at her like a tipsy teenager, the deep wrinkles fanning out around his eyes.

Maybe he needed a little direction to remember the task at hand. “Xavier…you called us, remember? I’m here to pick up your potion bottle and take it back to PARA.”

PARA was an acronym for the Paranormal Assessment and Recovery Agency, of which Emma was an agent. She assessed. She recovered. Since her psychic ability was clairvoyance, she sometimes spoke to ghosts to help direct them on to the next plane of existence—kind of like a supernatural flight attendant. Some of the ghosts even listened to her.

If someone had something they believed was enchanted or cursed, PARA would send an agent to check it out. If it was determined to be dangerous, the article in question would be kept under lock and key in the vault until it could be disenchanted, decursed or destroyed.

PARA was a privately funded business and Xavier was one of its biggest benefactors. Basically, whatever Xavier wanted, PARA provided for him. He’d just acquired a rare bottle of potion, but the potion wasn’t working as he’d been told it would. He wanted it assessed to see if he’d been duped into buying a fake. It wasn’t an important or a dangerous job. It was simply time-consuming. Since her car was in the shop, the bus ride from Mystic Ridge to New York City had taken three hours.

Yes, Xavier Franklin always got what he wanted. He’d, in fact, requested Emma by name after they’d met at a fundraising cocktail party a few months ago put on by the PARA board of directors. She was trying to take it as a compliment, even if it meant she was being used as a glorified courier.

Xavier’s cell phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket. “Yes, the bottle. Of course. I’ll get it for you in a moment, my dear. In the meantime, please enjoy yourself. Have some champagne.”

He wandered off with his phone pressed to his ear, the enormous peacock feather set into his mask flopping around at the top of it with every step he took.

The shoes Emma wore pinched her feet. Since she’d always disliked how short she was—all of five-foot-one—she never left her apartment without high heels, the higher the better. This pair had been on sale for a price she couldn’t resist, but she’d been paying the real price for her frugality every minute since she’d put them on.

“Such a glamorous life,” she said under her breath as her gaze moved over the hundreds of colorful glass bottles, vases and bowls lit up and displayed on shelves and tabletops. The main party was being held in the parlor at the front of the house with a two-storey-high ceiling, a dome-shaped skylight, and a chandelier so large and grand that it likely would impress even the Phantom of the Opera.

The Franklin Mansion, considered a pre-war historic home, was at least 150 years old—old enough that Emma was surprised no other phantoms were wandering around. It was a good thing she didn’t sense anything otherworldly. She wasn’t there for an exorcism, just a simple courier job.

While she was in Manhattan, though, she’d decided to take care of some other business. Along with being a paranormal investigator, Emma had a bit of a sideline going that very few people knew about. She was a writer. An author, in fact. She’d written an erotic novel and it had just been published a week ago.

It was her naughty little secret—a bit like wearing black lace panties and garters under an old pair of jeans.

Her editor was thrilled with Inevitable, a book she’d written under a pseudonym and she’d asked Emma to swing by the office today for a quick visit, during which she’d given Emma a stack of extra copies of the release. She wanted to offer Emma a contract to write more, but Emma wasn’t sure she had more books in her. The only reason she’d written this book was because she’d had a certain set of fantasies that wouldn’t let go of her imagination until she’d put them down on paper. Now they were down. They were published. And Emma felt she should focus on her career with PARA. After all, that’s what paid the bills.

If she’d known she’d have to lug a dozen books in a tote bag around a masquerade party for hours on end, she might have stashed them in a locker somewhere until it was time to head back home. Within the next hour, she needed to grab Xavier’s bottle and then catch her bus back to Mystic Ridge at eleven o’clock.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar face.

It felt as if someone had just punched her in her gut.

Ryan Shephard.

“Son of a bitch,” she whispered. What the hell was he doing here?

Her eyes narrowed. As if she had to ask. There were tens of millions of dollars worth of art and collectibles under this roof.

It was the perfect place for a thief like Ryan.

She moved to the archway between the rooms and watched as he slowly made his way through the crowd, pausing to chat with the other masked party-goers as if he belonged there when it was obvious to her he’d crashed. He’d never get an invitation to a fancy event like this one with his reputation.

Even with the red mask that covered half his face, she’d recognize him anywhere. The line of his jaw. The shape of his lips. The way his tall, chiseled frame filled out that black tuxedo.

She bit her bottom lip. Just because the man had betrayed her, lied to her, and walked away without even trying to explain himself, that didn’t mean she still didn’t find him painfully attractive.

It had been six months since her former partner at PARA had been caught stealing from the vault, intending to sell the enchanted objects and treasures within to private buyers.

They’d been partners for a year. Friends. Confidants. They’d laughed together, shared secrets, and gotten to know each other very well. Too well. Along the way, Emma had felt something much stronger than friendship for Ryan growing inside her. Just as she was gaining the courage she needed to act on it, he began dating her friend Charlotte.

Emma took that as the hint that he saw them as just friends, although the fantasies about him that plagued her were difficult to deal with. Constant. Erotic. Distracting. They were the same ones she’d needed to get down on paper, exorcizing them from her mind as if they were pesky ghosts.

She’d thought those fantasies were long gone now, captured on the page. But one look at Ryan had brought them all flooding back to her.

How annoying.

There’d also been another man she’d once trusted with all her heart before he betrayed her. Her father. He’d been a gambling addict and alcoholic who’d taken off and left her and her mother far behind when Emma had been in her late teens. No excuses, no apologies. He was just gone.

Then ten years later, Ryan had worked his way under her skin. She felt comfortable with him in a way that she’d never felt with other men—coworkers or boyfriends. And just when she’d been ready to put absolute trust in him, he’d shattered it in one fell swoop.

Ryan Shephard was a liar and a thief. Just because he was also drop dead sexy did nothing to help balance the scales. The last time they’d spoken, she believed she’d said something like: “I never want to see you again, you bastard.”

Perhaps she hadn’t been quite as polite, but that had been the gist of it. He’d been using her all along, trying to get into the good graces and trust of a long-time PARA agent like her, so he could get access to the office after hours.

And he’d lied about it by saying he hadn’t done anything wrong. Then he’d turned tail and left Mystic Ridge without another word.

He had done it. She had no doubt about that. If he’d just owned up to it, admitted he’d made the wrong choice…then maybe she might feel differently about the entire situation. Be he hadn’t. And that just made her think about the father who’d run away from a tough situation, with no regard for a wife and daughter who would have stood by him, no matter what.

Bad memories. Very bad.

Emma was surprised that seeing Ryan again affected her so much. Suddenly her palms were moist and her heart pounded like a jackhammer.

She was at the party to do her job and retrieve the potion bottle from Xavier, nothing else. Still, if Ryan Shephard was at this party, she was sure he was up to no good.

Summoning up her courage, she put one heel-clad foot in front of the other and made a beeline toward him. A waiter carrying a tray of champagne passed by and she grabbed a glass, downing it in one gulp before she carried on. Her borrowed mask felt hot and uncomfortable.

The faces around her were all covered in masks as well. Behind them, she knew she’d find local politicians, socialites, businesspeople, and a few celebrities. She didn’t pay them any attention. She ignored the classical music coming from the corner of the opulent ballroom. The four string quartet also wore masks. Emma’s eyes were solely fixed on her target.

Thief.

Liar.

Heartbreaker.

The star of her most erotic fantasies.

Ryan was bad news. And bad news was best thrown in the trash or used to line a bird cage.

He was talking to a buxom blonde wearing a pink feathered mask to match her tight pink cocktail dress when Emma tapped him on the shoulder. His back stiffened and he glanced at her.

“Hi there,” he said with a slow smile.

She cocked her head. “Hi there? Really?”

He turned back to the blonde. “Sorry.”

“Not a problem,” she demurred. “I’ll catch up with you later. You have my phone number.”

“Yes, I do. Thanks for that.”

“My pleasure.”

Oh, brother. Emma crossed her arms and tapped her foot as she waited for the blonde to wander off. Finally, he turned back to face her. The cobalt-blue eyes she remembered all too clearly were jarring behind his mask as he leisurely scanned her from head to toe. He ran a hand through his jet-black hair. It was a little longer than it had been the last time she’d seen him.

The smile he gave her was enough to melt her panties. That is, if he really affected her anymore. And, unfortunately, he did. Unexpected desire, much like a surge of electricity jolted through her.

Not helpful.

“Well?” she prompted, wanting some sort of explanation about why he was there and what he was up to.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked casually.

She stared at him for a moment. “Pardon me?”

“It’s a great party, isn’t it? The food is incredible. Have you been to the rooftop terrace yet?” He glanced toward the spiral staircase. “The view of Central Park is spectacular from up there.”

She gaped at him in disbelief. After everything that had happened, every case they’d investigated together, every hour they’d spoken in the past, every sexual fantasy she’d secretly harbored for him—he didn’t know who she was under her mask.

Of all the damned nerve.



RYAN WRACKED HIS MIND for the right movie quote. It was from Casablanca and Bogie had said it. Something about a whole lot of gin joints in the world and Ingrid Bergman had to walk into his.

He wasn’t Humphrey Bogart and this wasn’t an old movie. But the sight of beautiful Emma Black immediately made him want to head to the bar in the corner of the parlor and consume a great deal of gin.

Even with a party mask on, he would recognize her anywhere. And not just because of her long flame-red hair—although it did help her stand out in a crowd. She was short in stature—not much over five feet, but she always made up for it by wearing treacherously high heels. Tonight she wore a simple black dress, a little less fancy and shiny than what other women were wearing tonight, but he had to fight his gaze not to skim down her body again. He thought he’d memorized every luscious curve back when they were partners, but unexpectedly seeing her standing right in front of him had been enough to knock all logical thought out of his head.

No, it wasn’t just because of her hair or her body that he recognized her.

It was the look in her emerald green eyes. He remembered that look after being on the receiving end of it nearly six months ago.

Sheer unadulterated hatred.

It brought back memories—bad ones.

His knee-jerk reaction to seeing her standing there glaring at him like he was an insect that had the audacity to smash into her windshield was to pretend he didn’t recognize her.

And here they were.

“Anyway—” he pushed a facsimile of a charming smile to his lips “—have a lovely evening.”

He didn’t want to scurry off with his tail between his legs, but the compulsion was strong.

“Ryan,” she said sharply. “It’s me.”

This ruse wasn’t going to last. But owning up to it right away just wasn’t in his nature. “Have we met before?”

“Yes.” It was more of a hiss than a confirmation.

He scratched his chin. “You do seem a bit familiar to me. Was it Hawaii? A little bar called the Lotus Flower?”

The glare she gave him was sharp enough to wound. “You’re hilarious.”

“I am known for my sense of humor.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Ryan?” There was a decidedly unpleasant edge to her words that tasted a bit to him like venom. She had just as much of a sense of humor as he did—at least she used to. It was one of the things he liked best about her. This, however, was not one of those times she chose to tap into it.

Ryan’s smile finally faded. “Emma.”

Her eyes widened. “Ha! I knew you recognized me.”

“Long time no see.”

“Not long enough. Why are you here?”

He glanced around. “I’m attending a party.”

“With or without an invitation?”

One thing he’d learned about the delicious Emma Black, after working side by side with her for a year—she never minced words. Tact was not always at the top of her to-do list either. “What are you doing here?” he countered.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re right, I didn’t.” He eyed a couple who passed them on the way to the open bar. “I do have an invite, although it wasn’t necessarily sent to me personally. Perhaps you’d like to alert security that I’m crashing and have them drag me out. Would that make you feel good about yourself?”

“It might.”

He forced a smile. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. I’m not up to anything nefarious.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

He held out his hand. “Let’s put the past behind us, Emma.”

She eyed his hand as if it were covered in fungus. “Right, like I’m going to touch you so you can get a read on me.”

All agents with PARA, current and former, were psychic. The majority were either empathic—those able to sense emotions and feelings from other people through touch—or clairvoyant—those able to communicate with ghosts and sense important things from objects or places without relying on the usual five senses.

In their partnership, Ryan was the people person and Emma dealt with all the other stuff. His empathic ability had never been very strong and he had to work hard to get any kind of reading at all. He also had to do it through skin to skin contact. Some empaths were strong enough to get a sense of another just from being in the same room with them. Not Ryan. He was a one on a scale of one to five, maybe a two on a good day. His gift was more like strong intuition rather than total psychic ability. But he’d made it work for himself and his low-end ability had never really given him any problems on the job.

He was much better with cars, really. Tinkering with cars, sensing what made them work—or not work—was his true talent. And his true love. It wasn’t related to his psychic ability, but it might as well have been. He felt he had a sixth sense about cars. But that hadn’t been put to much use as a PARA agent.

One thing he had going for himself as an empath was that other empaths couldn’t get a read on him. This was both a blessing and a curse since it meant that his secrets remained secrets.

“Read you?” He gave her an innocent look. “I wouldn’t do something shady like that without your permission.”

“You don’t need to read me. I can tell you what I’m feeling—disgusted. And a little nauseous.”

“The shrimp pâté is a bit questionable. I’d stay away from the caviar as well. Nasty stuff.”

Her cheeks went a bit flushed. He was surprised that he seemed to be able to affect her just with a few words. She must really hate him, even after all this time.

He wished the feeling was mutual.

Since he’d been fired from PARA for theft, he’d worked a lot of jobs to make ends meet. In a week he was scheduled to move down to Florida to work with his brother in a high-end garage taking care of luxury vehicles. It was a dream job for him.

However, he had a little bit of business to clear up first before he left.

Emma looked up at him. He was six-two, so even with the highest heels she was still at a height disadvantage. But what she lacked in stature, she made up for in attitude. Their gazes locked and he felt something stir inside him. Desire. He found her just as gorgeous as he ever had and she affected him whether he liked it or not. It put him at an extreme disadvantage if he was trying to keep his cool.

“If you try to steal anything from Xavier Franklin tonight,” she said slowly and evenly, “there will be consequences. I don’t know how you managed to get your hands on an invitation, but the security for this party is very tight. PARA didn’t press charges when you stole from them, but Xavier would.”

Now that was a low blow. What happened six months ago was still constantly on his mind. He didn’t need the reminder.

Ryan’s mood darkened as if a storm cloud had drifted overhead. “No, PARA didn’t press charges. After all, who’s going to believe a self-proclaimed supernatural investigation agency that says they’re missing a stash of enchanted tea cups or grandfather clocks? I know the board of directors likes to keep PARA business private.”

“All I’m saying—”

“I get it, Emma. Stealing is wrong.”

Her fierce expression faltered. “I don’t know why I’m even talking to you. I washed my hands of you a long time ago.”

“I remember.” Her words made something sharp and painful twist in his chest. He’d valued their friendship more than she ever knew. Enough that he’d started casually dating another woman, Charlotte, when he began developing deeper feelings for Emma. It had made sense at the time. His relationships—they didn’t last long. They never had. And if he’d had a fling with Emma, it would have ended the friendship he valued so much. A friendship that ended anyway. Maybe it had never been as strong as he would have liked to believe.

He pushed the grin back onto his face, though it felt as false as it probably looked. “Don’t worry about me, Em. I have things under control. Enjoy the party.”

Ryan turned to walk up the stairs to the terrace. He was now in desperate need of some fresh air. Emma thought he was a thief who’d manipulated her and shamelessly lied to her. That he was the sort of man who would steal potentially dangerous items and sell them for profit. Your average enchanted tea cup went for a whole lot of green on the black market and there were literally hundreds of eager buyers worldwide who had vast collections of supernatural paraphernalia hidden away in their mansions. It was a booming business.

But there was a big problem with Emma’s theory. Despite what she believed, he’d never stolen anything from PARA’s vaults.

Never.

The evidence, however, proved otherwise and had gotten him swiftly fired without a chance to properly plead his case. Since he was an empath—even a low-end one—there was no way to gauge if he was telling the truth when he’d denied the charges.

Ryan knew he’d been set up. And his life and career had been ruined because of it.

That was why he’d come here tonight. He’d crashed Xavier Franklin’s ritzy masquerade party because he suspected the billionaire was one of those supernatural collectors. If he could find hard evidence of that fact, he might discover who’d been providing Franklin, and others like him, with merchandise.

Ryan was all ready to start his new life down in Florida at a job he knew he was going to love. But first, something deep inside of him was driving him to clear his name. Otherwise this stain on his character would never let him rest. He didn’t want distractions or regrets to haunt him as he embarked on his future.

And yes, he wanted to prove to Emma Black, once and for all, that he wasn’t a thief. That he wasn’t a liar. He wanted to see that trust in her eyes again one last time before he walked away and never looked back. He wanted her to feel sorry that she ever doubted him in the first place.

She’d been totally wrong about him and he’d prove it.

However, based on their latest little confrontation, he knew that was going to be one hell of an uphill battle.




2


AN HOUR LATER, Emma sat on the stiff, black leather couch in the library where she’d been told to wait for Xavier and tried not to think about what happened with Ryan.

She tried. She wasn’t all that successful.

One brief conversation and he was suddenly all she could think about. Maybe she should seek him out again and get more answers from him. Or maybe she should keep trying to forget she ever saw him in the first place.

Finally, Xavier entered the room. “There you are, my dear.”

She stood up. Her purse and tote bag full of books leaned against the leg of the couch to her left. “Here I am. Do you have it?”

“I certainly do.”

He held a small green glass bottle. It was about the size of an antique perfume bottle with a glass stopper.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“I acquired it in London a few months ago.” He looked at it sourly. “I’m disappointed in it.”

It was half filled with liquid. “What sort of potion is it supposed to be?”

“It is called Desidero.” He peered at it through the opening in his mask. “It’s supposed to be a mood enhancer, but it doesn’t seem to work at all. I’ve tested it several times to no avail, which leads me to believe I was either duped when I bought it or its properties are no longer viable. I spent a great deal of money on this and if PARA determines that it is not what it is meant to be, then those who sold it to me will be held accountable. At the very least, I’ll expect my money back.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Not at all. Like I said, it doesn’t work. It’s no more dangerous than water.”

Emma took the bottle from him and inspected it, turning it around in her hand. The stopper didn’t look particularly snug. She’d brought a sealed case to keep it in for the trip back so no contents would spill. “We’re happy to assess it for you and let you know what we find. It’ll probably take about a week before someone gives you the report. Anyway, it was very nice to meet you, Xavier.”

She was about to move past him to grab her bags when he blocked her path. “Leaving so soon?” he asked.

“I appreciate you letting me attend the party, but I think it’s time I headed home. My bus leaves at eleven and it’s already ten o’clock.”

“I understand,” he said, nodding. “But if you’re tired, I have plenty of room here at my mansion. I could have a bed made up for you.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

He drew closer to her. “I’d love the chance to get to know you better.”

Emma stiffened as she felt his bony hand press against her. “Are you aware that you’re now cupping my right breast?”

He smiled. “Such a lovely right breast it is. The left one is equally alluring.”

Oh, boy. “I need to go now.”

“I’m a very rich man, Emma. And I enjoy collecting beautiful things. I have three mistresses set up in Manhattan, two in Toronto, and one in London. Have you ever given any thought to letting someone take care of you so you can live a life of leisure rather than having to pursue a full-time career to support yourself?”

She eyed him. “Are you asking me to be one of your mistresses?”

He swept his gaze over her, stopping at her cleavage. “I don’t have a redhead in my collection yet.”

She couldn’t say she was overly surprised by this turn of events. Xavier Franklin’s reputation for chasing much younger women by the baker’s dozen did precede him, after all. She was surprised he only had six mistresses.

“Look, Xavier, I’m flattered, of course, but I wouldn’t say I’m in the market for—”

He aimed a kiss toward her mouth, but she dodged out of the way just in time. He grinned wickedly at her. “I like a little spunk in my ladies. The chase only makes it more fun!”

This wasn’t happening to her. “I really need to leave.”

His pale eyes swept over her body. “You, me, hot tub. Now. You can leave the mask on but everything else comes off. I enjoy a bit of mystery.”

She grimaced. “No, thanks.”

“Your beautiful lips say no, but your sexy green eyes say yes.”

“My sexy green eyes are also saying no. Trust me on that.”

He grabbed her wrist and she had to jostle to keep a hold of the potion bottle so it wouldn’t spill. “I’ve desired you since the moment we met. I want to make love to you.”

She gritted her teeth. “That wasn’t part of the agreement with PARA.”

“I don’t care.” He waved a hand flippantly. “You know, Emma, I have a difficult time taking no for an answer.”

“I can see that.” She didn’t want to resort to kneeing the old man in his privates, but it was a distinct possibility she’d have to go there. He was rich and powerful. PARA considered him a VIP, so he could make her life very difficult, but she’d be damned if she was going to let him to fondle her like one of his shiny glass bowls.

“Excuse me,” a familiar voice said from behind them. “Emma, I was wondering where you’d gotten to. Is everything okay?”

She turned with shock to see Ryan standing by the open door to the library.

“Who are you?” Xavier demanded, without letting go of her wrist.

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Ryan. Emma’s fiancé.” He smiled thinly. “Is there a problem here?”

Xavier let go of her so abruptly she nearly stumbled backward. She pressed her hand over the top of the bottle to keep the stopper in place.

“Emma, I wasn’t aware that you were engaged,” he said.

Her first inclination was to deny it, but she bit her tongue long enough to come to her senses. “Oh, yes. Very engaged. Ryan came along with me tonight. It was a long drive and I wanted the company.”

“Yes,” Ryan agreed. “I couldn’t let my angel come all this way by herself. The city can be very dangerous. Predators are everywhere. Present company excluded, of course.”

Xavier pursed his lips. “I thought you said you were taking the bus back tonight.”

“I…uh, yes, of course,” she said. “We both took the bus.”

The billionaire eyed each of them in turn and Emma was certain he didn’t believe a word they spoke.

“Yes, well,” he finally relented. “I really must get back to my party. Everyone will be wondering where I’ve gotten to.”

“Good idea,” Ryan said. “Bye now.”

“Lovely to meet you. Both of you.” Without another word, Xavier Franklin left the library and closed the heavy, ornately carved door behind him, leaving Emma and Ryan alone. She finally released the breath she’d been holding.

“You don’t have to thank me—” Ryan offered.

She looked at him, trying her best to repress the gratitude she felt. “I wasn’t going to.”

“—but you’re welcome.”

Emma put her hand on her hip. “I could have handled that, you know.”

“A dirty old man with big bucks trying to get you into his hot tub? Yeah, you probably could have. But I thought I’d intervene, just for old time’s sake. You do know these parties are simply a way for him to meet new women, right?” His gaze narrowed on the bottle she held. “So, what’s that?”

“A bottle.”

“I figured that part out all by myself. Was it a gift from the octogenarian Casanova?”

“Not a gift. I’m taking it back to PARA with me. Don’t try to steal it or I might be forced to stab you in the eyeball.”

He raised a dark brow. “With what?”

Emma frowned. “I have a very pointy pencil in my purse and I know how to use it.”

He studied her for a moment. “I see. So if you’re here on behalf of my old employer, where’s your new partner?”

“I don’t have a partner at the moment. I’m currently working independently.”

“For six long months?” His lips stretched over his straight white teeth. “So nobody lived up to me, did they?”

She shook her head. “I see you haven’t misplaced your inflated ego anywhere.”

“Thought I did for a while, but I found it in my sock drawer.”

Speaking with the gorgeous but disappointing man in front of her was wearying, especially when being close to him made it difficult to separate the anger she felt from the desire that pooled inside her. It was well past the time when Emma wanted to leave. “Well, it’s been great walking down memory lane with you, Ryan, but time is a-fleeting.” She grabbed her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and then eyed the tote bag. She’d have to catch a cab to the bus station. Any more walking was out of the question tonight with this load. All she knew was she had to escape. And soon.

His smile faded. “So you’re going to leave, just like that.”

She shrugged. “My work here is done. I have what I came for and now it’s time for me to go.”

He’d drawn close enough that she could feel his body heat. She forced herself not to back up a step or show any weakness toward him.

“Take off your mask, Em. I want to see your face,” he said.

“No.”

“Is that the only word you know?”

“Tonight it is.”

She wanted to stay professional, but it was difficult when Ryan Shephard was so close to her. She’d tried very hard to forget about him, to put everything that happened between them well behind her. Logically, she knew she wasn’t supposed to like him anymore, but it was as if her body had a mind of its own.

A whole year of wanting him when they worked together, side by side. Never having him. Fantasies of bare skin, his body pressed to hers, his lips and tongue moving over her naked body, lower, lower…

She had to get out of here.

“Can I tell you a secret, Em?” he asked after a moment.

“I’d prefer than you don’t. And stop calling me Em.” Her grip tightened on the bottle of potion. It was an abbreviation of her name that he’d used in the past, but now it felt much too intimate.

His jaw tightened. “Fine, Emma. Then let me ask you a question first.”

She reached up to adjust her mask. Flimsy though it was, it felt like it offered her a bit of protection against the man facing her. “Go ahead. But I can’t guarantee I’m going to answer it.”

“When you heard that I’d stolen all that stuff from the vaults, did it ever occur to you that I didn’t do it?”

“No,” she said, hating that her throat now felt thick. She didn’t want him to affect her like this. She thought she’d steeled herself against him a long time ago.

His blue eyes grew serious beneath his red mask. “Why not?”

“Because there was a witness to your actions, someone I trust more than anyone in the world.”

His eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“Like I’m going to tell you.” A flare of anger ignited inside her, which helped her see things clearly again. “Look, Ryan, I don’t care if you’re only now starting to feel guilt about what happened. I don’t care if you’re looking to make amends. It’s too late for that.”

“So you still hate me.”

She blew out a breath. “Actually, I feel nothing for you.”

His face tightened. “That’s even worse.”

“Just because you’re having a moment of guilt doesn’t mean I need to feel sorry for you. It’s not going to happen. You made your choices and I made mine.”

“Did you ever feel anything for me?” He searched her face.

Dangerous question. “You’re the empath. You tell me.”

His lips curved at the edges. “Humor me.”

Humor him. She wasn’t sure why she would want to do something like that.

“Okay, you really want to know?” She exhaled shakily and her grip on the glass bottle tightened until the sharp edges bit into her skin. “Whatever I might have felt for you in the past was swept away the moment you decided that being my partner at PARA was not as good as making some easy cash on the side. You had a good life and some great friends—especially me—and you threw it all away. We knew each other a year, Ryan. You were my partner. I trusted you with—” Her voice caught and she cleared her throat. “Quite honestly, at this very moment I just want you to go away and stay gone. I really never wanted to see you again.”

The words poured out of her mouth in a gush and he stood there letting her have her say. The look on his face, although partially hidden, stiffened with every word she uttered. His reaction bothered her, she couldn’t help it.

Because, bottom line, six months ago—even after he started dating Charlotte—she’d been well on her way to falling in love with him. And he’d broken her heart. So she’d stuffed those feelings down deep and tried not to pay any attention to them. But seeing him tonight—the realization that she was far from over him was not a comfort in any way, shape, or form. Actually, it made her want to cry.

Finally, a glimmer of a smile, although now lacking any humor, touched Ryan’s lips. “I guess it can’t get much more clear than that, can it?”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You said you had a secret you wanted to tell me?”

“Forget it. Suddenly I’m not in much of a mood for sharing.”

“Then I’m going to go. Goodbye, Ryan.”

“Goodbye, Emma.”

She took a deep breath and began to walk past him. She had a feeling that after tonight, she’d never see him again. It would be for the best—for both of them.

“Wait…before you go—” He reached out and grabbed her wrist to stop her. The bottle Xavier had given her earlier jerked and the loose-fitting top flew off. The clear, oily liquid within spilled over the lip of the bottle and splashed them both.

“Damn.” She rubbed her hand against her dress, then grabbed for the stopper and quickly put it back in place.

“What is that stuff?” Ryan asked. He brought his fingers to his temples as if he’d suddenly developed a headache.

The temperature in the room felt as if it had just shot up about twenty degrees. A wave of dizziness swept through her. She pressed her hand to her face. “PARA business. It’s the reason I’m here in the first place.”

He frowned. “So that means it’s not just any bottle. What’s inside of it?”

“Xavier said it was something he’d gotten in London. Some sort of mood enhancing potion, but it doesn’t work properly. He called it Desidero.”

He gaped at her. “Did you say Desidero?”

The look of surprise on his face didn’t help calm her nerves. “Yes.”

He grimaced. “Uh, oh.”

She stared at him. “Uh, oh, what?”

“You’re sure that’s what he said? Desidero potion?”

“Positive, but he says it doesn’t work. You know what it is?”

“I worked a few weeks in the potions division when I started at the agency, before I was assigned as your partner. It was part of my training. Desidero was one of the potions I learned about.” He looked at the bottle she held. “Mood enhancement, huh? I guess it’ll kick in any second now.”

“What will kick in?”

He shook his head. “A whole lot of trouble.”

“He said it didn’t work properly.”

“Oh, it’s working, all right. I can feel it right now.” He rubbed his temples again.

Her entire body felt flushed. Maybe she was having an allergic reaction to it. “Do I have to get violent to make you spit out what you know?”

Ryan hissed out a breath through his teeth. “It’s a lust potion, Emma. An old one from the British Isles. There’s a legend that says that this is the potion that Guinevere was given to make her fall in love with King Arthur, but it didn’t work quite that smoothly. You know what happened with Lancelot, right? She fell for him instead. It’s this potion’s fault. And, no, it doesn’t work on everyone which is why Franklin thought it was a dud. Some mood enhancer. He has no idea.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Guinevere and Lancelot?”

“You got it.”

A lust potion. That would explain why she suddenly felt so warm. Why her body had begun to tingle. Why her nipples had tightened. Why her belly twisted with a strange and difficult to ignore need. Why she desperately wanted Ryan’s hands on her as soon as possible. “Lustful for…?”

He smiled, but it was shaky. “Well, I guess that would be me.”

“You?”

“We were together when it spilled on us.” His gaze, now heated, swept her body as he drew closer. “It’s rare and dangerous stuff.”

A shiver went down her spine. “There’s some left. If you stole it, you could get a lot of money for something like this.”

“I could. If I stole it.”

Her breath came quick, and Ryan’s mouth was suddenly the main focus of her entire world. “I feel an irresistible need to kiss you right now. Which is incredibly inconvenient considering how much I hate you,” she whispered.

“I thought you said you were indifferent to me. Put down the bottle before you break it. If any more of that stuff spills, we might have a larger problem to deal with here.”

Instead of arguing, she placed the green glass bottle down on a table next to the couch and dropped her purse to the floor. “So…now what do we do?”

She felt his gaze on her like a brand. It slid over her breasts and stomach, and her insides tightened with desire.

“Kiss me,” he suggested.

Her heart pounded hard. “Bad idea.”

“You’re afraid what might happen?”

“Yes.”

He had the audacity to smile at her. “See, I knew you knew words other than no, Em.”

“I need to get out of here.” But she didn’t move. They were alone in the library of Xavier Franklin’s mansion with a party going on outside the heavy closed doors. She could hear it—the voices, the laughter, the band playing some up-tempo but classical number.

“So despite you telling me a minute ago that you’re indifferent to me,” Ryan said, “what you’re now saying is that you hate me.”

She nodded. “I can’t stand you.”

“But you still want to kiss me.”

Yes. She needed to kiss him, to do more than just kiss him. To feel Ryan’s hands on her, his hot skin beneath her fingertips. To feel him sliding inside of her, filling her the way she’d always fantasized about. Even in the months that he’d been out of her life, she’d still dreamed about having him in her bed.

Damn.

It was Emma who closed the distance between them first. Her mind was foggy, but her body knew what it wanted. It wanted Ryan. It had always wanted Ryan since the moment she’d met him. And the Desidero potion, just a small splash of it, had heightened that need inside of her to an uncontrollable level.

Just because it was inconvenient didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

Ryan looked concerned. “Emma, we need to—”

“Shut up.” She took his face between her hands to pull him closer and crushed her mouth against his.




3


EMMA BLACK, a woman who proclaimed to hate his guts, was kissing him more passionately than he’d ever been kissed. He could feel her desire like it was a palpable thing. It sank into him, making his cock harder than it had ever been a day in his life.

Ryan filled his hands with her thick, silky red hair, letting it slide through his fingers. Her grip tightened on him, pulling him even closer to her.

He’d wanted her from the moment he’d seen her in the middle of the party earlier, rescuing him from some random socialite who’d wanted to get into his pants. His desire for Emma had been immediate—at least, after he’d gotten over his initial shock at seeing her again after all this time. The potion simply took that desire and increased it to a level that was impossible to ignore.

He’d sought her out, hoping to talk to her, to tell her the truth—that he’d been set up, that he wasn’t a thief and had been wrongfully fired—and see if that made any difference to her. See if she believed him.

He’d wanted her to believe him.

When he’d seen that horny old bastard pawing her, his blood began to boil. If Franklin had been thirty years younger, he might have received more than a glare and a lie about being Emma’s fiancé.

“You taste like champagne,” he whispered against her lips when she pulled back an inch, her breath coming fast and deep.

“I had a glass earlier.”

“You taste so good.”

“So do you.”

Emma slid her hands down the front of his shirt, over his chest to his abdomen. Her touch felt like fire. He saw the same aching desire he felt reflected in her eyes.

Proof.

The proof he needed that she didn’t hate him. This was it.

Franklin said the potion didn’t work for him. Likely he’d tried it on many women, hoping they’d throw themselves into his arms and bed. Dirty old man.

But the Desidero potion didn’t work like that.

It didn’t make Guinevere desire King Arthur. Instead, she fell hard for Lancelot. It meant that she’d wanted the knight over the king all along, but had resisted due to her situation.

Once the potion worked its special magic, she’d had no choice but to give in to her true desires. The potion simply acted as a push against any control its victim might have.

If Emma had truly hated Ryan—or even if she’d been indifferent to him as she claimed—the potion wouldn’t work at all.

Emma wanted him as Guinevere had wanted Lancelot.

And King Arthur had been sent packing.

“Do you feel it?” he asked.

“Feel it?” She slid her hand down over the front of his pants where his erection strained and she grinned wickedly at him. “I think so.”

He groaned and swore darkly under his breath. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Yes, I feel the potion’s effects. No doubt about it.”

“You want me.”

She brushed her lips over his throat. “I hate you.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the obvious lie. She didn’t hate him. She might wish she did, but she didn’t. “So you don’t want me.”

She took his face between her hands and stared deeply into his eyes. “What I want is to feel you inside of me.”

He inhaled sharply as she slid her hand down over his cock again. “You have a definite way with words, Em.”

“I’ve been told that before.”

Any amusement on his part disappeared as she unzipped him with deft hands and reached inside his fly to wrap her fingers around his hard length. He groaned.

“Sit down.” She pushed him backward until he bumped into the couch behind him. He sat down hard.

“If you insist.” He reached for her, wanting to pull the straps of her dress down over her shoulders and bare her breasts to his touch, his mouth, but she slipped out of his reach, instead sinking down to the floor in front of him.

He eyed the closed but not locked door. “Emma…we should leave, go somewhere else—somewhere private. We shouldn’t do this here—”

But he couldn’t speak any more when she took him into her mouth. He arched his back, the intense pleasure crashing over him, almost too much to bear. He had to struggle to find some semblance of control or he feared he would explode right then and there. His hands shook as he pushed the vibrant red hair off her forehead so he could see her face, watch her lush, pink lips slide down onto him. Her mouth was so hot and wet—he couldn’t speak, couldn’t think…he could only feel…

Finally, he was able to gather himself enough to moan her name. “Emma…please…” He pulled at her and suddenly her lips were on his again, hard and hot, devouring him with the kiss that held so much passion it was as if she were starving. She crawled onto his lap to straddle him.

His hands sought her full breasts, squeezing them through the top of her dress and running his hands down her sides, over her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and slipping under her skirt toward her sex. She wore panties, but they were a very flimsy barrier. Pushing them to the side, he was able to slide his fingers against the slickness of her, which earned him a shuddery breath and a moan of encouragement.

Ryan shifted a little, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock which he rubbed against her. She was so wet for him, so ready. He had to be inside of her. He would go insane if he didn’t take her here, now. He’d never wanted anyone as much as this. The potion had made it impossible to deny what he’d always wanted.

Emma.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Please, Ryan…”

“You want me.”

“Yes.”

“Even though you think you hate me.”

“Yes!”

When he was perfectly positioned to enter her with one upward thrust, he heard the sound.

Knocking.

“Is somebody in there?” the voice asked from the other side of the door.

Then there was the sound of the knob turning.

The very next moment, Emma had pulled away from him, scrambling back as if she’d just been hit in the face with a glass of ice cold water. She stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers and hurriedly pulled the straps of her dress back up into place.

“This was a horrible mistake,” she said, finally averting her eyes.

Then she was gone, grabbing her purse and scurrying out of the room as if the fire alarm had gone off. She passed a couple at the door who wore matching purple masks. Ryan had the chance to tuck himself away and zip up before their attention moved to him.

“Did we interrupt something?” the man asked.

“Yes,” he growled, when what he really wanted to do was get up and throttle the both of them.

They looked at each other before closing the door behind them, leaving him in the library alone.

His first inclination was to chase after Emma and talk to her. To finish what they’d started. But he knew it was too late for that tonight. She’d found a fraction of control again, despite the potion’s effects.

From what he could remember about the Desidero potion, those effects would fade over time. A week at the most.

Being apart would help, but not much. His body craved her now—and he knew the feeling was mutual. If they consummated their desire, the potion’s effects would fade quickly—a day at the most. If they didn’t—it might be a difficult week ahead if he wanted to think about anything but Emma’s touch, her mouth, her tongue, her body…

Torture.

His gaze moved to the side table where the green bottle sat innocently and then he looked down at the floor where Emma had left behind a black tote bag.

Cinderella had left the ball and forgotten a couple items, though neither was your typical glass slipper. He was no Prince Charming, but it seemed like a fitting fairy tale at the moment.

She probably believed that she’d escaped just in time and that everything would be okay now. That she’d never see Ryan Shephard again, accused thief and liar, a man she swore she hated.

Only her desire and out of control lust for Ryan wouldn’t just vanish into thin air. And there wasn’t anything she could do about that, other than try to avoid him.

Emma Black desired him. The potion proved that once and for all. He knew she’d been fond of him when they were partners, but this? This was more than he could have imagined.

And she’d been the aggressor, practically throwing him on the sofa so she could have her way with him.

The thought brought a slow smile to his face.

He grabbed the tote bag and unzipped it to see what was inside. Books—about a dozen trade paperbacks, all identical. He pulled one out and looked at the cover.



INEVITABLE

E.M. Black



There was the shadowy outline of a female’s naked back and buttocks to the side of the dust jacket. A male figure stood behind her, his hand curling around from behind to rest on the small of her spine. It was subtle, but there was no doubt this was supposed to be a sexy book.

Ryan couldn’t help but grin. “My goodness, Emma, you naughty girl. What are you reading these days?”

He turned it over to read the story blurb on the back cover. It was about a woman who worked for a paranormal investigation agency who experienced many explicit fantasies made flesh during her cases with her partner Bryan.

Bryan.

Ryan frowned and flipped through the book to find the bio of the author. There was a black-and-white picture, but it was mysteriously shot so it wasn’t obvious what she really looked like. Her back was to the camera, her face turned just a little so she was coyly glancing over her shoulder. Very enigmatic. Very sexy.

Very Emma.

He recognized her immediately and his mouth fell open in shock.

There was a card clipped to one of the book covers and he grabbed it.

Emma, congrats on the new release. Enjoy the extra copies! Please consider writing more for me. Let me know when you’re ready to talk more books!

—Marilyn

Emma wrote this book. She was E.M. Black. These were copies of her erotic novel.

Naughty, indeed.

He sat down heavily on the leather sofa and trained his gaze on the door, waiting for Emma to come bursting through at any moment to reclaim her tote bag and potion bottle.

She didn’t return.

Ryan left the party at just after eleven o’clock and grabbed a taxi to take him across the city to his hotel room. He hadn’t spoken to Franklin personally about who was supplying him with stolen supernatural merchandise. This was still vitally important to him—to clear his name once and for all—but he’d decided to put that on hold for just a couple days longer.

Tomorrow he’d rent a car and head to Mystic Ridge, a town he hadn’t stepped foot in since he’d been fired six months ago.

He had to see Emma again.

Tonight, however, he had some serious reading to do.




4


EMMA WAS ON THE BUS headed away from the station when she realized, with a sick, sinking feeling, that she’d left a couple of things behind.

The books she could live without. Since she’d left them in a library, maybe Xavier would think they were an anonymous donation. He certainly seemed the type to appreciate erotica. But the bottle—that was going to be a problem. It was, after all, the sole reason she’d been sent to see the billionaire in the first place.

Of course, that was before everything went to hell.

Her head still felt cloudy and she couldn’t believe what she’d done. She and Ryan had almost—

She banged her head gently against the window, feeling the vibrations of the bus’s movement.

It was as if her baser instincts had taken over. She’d jumped on the man she claimed to hate like a sex-starved frog on a tuxedo-wearing lily pad.

In her line of work, she’d come into contact with potions before, but she’d never been influenced by one. Not like this. It was just a good thing that she wouldn’t see Ryan again. Ever. She definitely didn’t want a repeat performance to mess her head up even more than it already was.

The window reflected a redhead who had sad, glossy eyes and flushed cheeks. Emma shook a finger at her. “Don’t get emotional over that jerk.”

The redhead just stared back at her bleakly.

“No,” she assured her reflection. “He’s bad news. Not worth another thought.”

The lust potion had brought back a big mess of issues, all of them involving her unrequited feelings for Ryan. The ones that would have to stay unrequited.

She didn’t trust him. He was a thief and a liar.

For a moment she thought he was going to try to tell her that he was innocent, that he’d been wrongfully fired from his job. He’d seemed surprised when she told him there’d been a witness to what he’d done, one Emma trusted more than anyone.

Herself.

Emma had seen Ryan leave the office with the stolen merchandise in hand late one night. She’d been in the parking lot. She’d seen him load the stolen items in the trunk of a black car and then take off without looking back.

If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she never would have believed it. But she had. And she did. And the fact that she still had feelings for the man who’d broken her trust as well as her heart—well, that just pissed her off.

Thank God she’d stopped before they’d had sex. It had been so close. Way too close. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think about how he’d felt, how he’d tasted, how he’d smelled. Very good. Very tempting. Very dangerous.

“Goodbye, Ryan,” she whispered. “For good this time.”



“OKAY, WELL PLEASE contact me if you find anything,” Emma said into the phone Thursday afternoon. She was finally back at her desk at the PARA head office. She’d taken the morning off since her bus hadn’t pulled into Mystic Ridge until after 2:00 a.m. “I really appreciate it.”

She slammed the receiver down and then swore at it.

Her friend, Charlotte Hayes, eyed her cautiously. “And what did that poor phone ever do to you?”

“They can’t find the potion bottle,” Emma explained. “That was one of the maids. They’re still cleaning up after the party last night. No bottle. No tote bag. Nothing.”

“That blows.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s not the end of the world. It happens. Jeez, Emma, old man Franklin hitting on you must have really messed up your head. You never forget stuff like this.”

Emma cringed. It was a pretty good excuse, she thought. She’d left the party after Xavier had groped her. That was all she’d told Charlotte. She hadn’t made one mention about seeing Ryan again. After all, it had been statuesque, blonde and beautiful Charlotte whom he’d dated before he was fired. And it had been Charlotte whom Emma had been painfully envious of for that very reason. However, Charlotte had gotten over Ryan’s betrayal much faster than Emma had.

The last thing she wanted Charlotte to know was that Emma had bumped into her former partner and had nearly screwed his brains out at a client’s home, thanks to a lust potion.

Talk about unprofessional. And embarrassing.

It was best she forget about it. She was still working on that.

It wasn’t as if she resented Charlotte for being tall and gorgeous. She liked her. A lot. In fact, they’d been roommates until only until a few months ago. Charlotte had worked for PARA a year now. She was only twentyfive. Her parents had money, a lot of it, but most of it had been lost in a bad economy and a Ponzi scheme, leaving Charlotte with no nest egg to speak of. She’d had to get a job to pay her bills instead of relying on Mom and Dad, so she’d jumped at the chance to make a living using her empathic ability.

The poor girl still didn’t know the value of a dollar. Emma had taken her under her wing and shown her the ropes of bargain hunting. Or she’d tried to, anyway. When you were born into money, it was difficult to make the transition to clipping coupons.

At least she was gorgeous. And she was dating a man who was crazy about her. Charlotte and Stephen had recently moved in together, actually. She’d be fine. Emma just worried about the people she cared about.

Charlotte had been put in charge of sorting through unsolved cases and she had a stack of file folders on her desk. Emma had glanced through them earlier. One was a known thorn in PARA’s side, an allegedly haunted hotel on the other side of Mystic Ridge. For years, agents had been unsuccessful at exorcising the ghost from the location—even proving there was even a ghost in residence seemed impossible.

If Emma messed up on any more assignments, she’d be demoted into working side by side with Charlotte on those cold cases. She wasn’t quite as fond of dusty and impossible-to-solve riddles as Charlotte seemed to be.

Agency manager Patrick McKay moved slowly toward her. Tall and attractive with a bright gold wedding ring on his left hand to show he’d recently returned from his honeymoon, he used a cane to walk these days as part of his recovery from a spinal injury. Otherwise he looked like someone who might climb mountains in his spare time.

“Any luck locating the bottle, Emma?” he asked.

She just shook her head, trying to ignore her feelings of guilt over her failure.

His lips thinned and his gaze grew concerned. “Everything okay, Emma? It’s not like you to forget something so important.”

“I’m fine. And I— I’m sorry, Patrick. I don’t know what happened.”

“Xavier Franklin hit on her and it messed her up,” Charlotte offered bluntly. “She shouldn’t have been sent to that dirty old man’s home all by herself. She’s lucky she got out of there at all.”

Patrick’s brows drew together. “Is that true?”

Emma tensed. “Yes, but I don’t want to make a big deal over it.”

“Franklin is a known womanizer, but I hoped his age might prohibit him from bothering my agents. Seems like I was wrong. I’m sorry you had to deal with that. And Charlotte’s right. You need a partner to prevent situations like this happening in the future. You’ll be able to do more field assignments than you have the last few months. I’m sure you’re sick of being stuck at your desk so much lately.”

“But—”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Her shoulders sank. “That’s fine. Thanks.”

He watched her for a moment. “You’re sure everything’s fine, Emma? I sense that you’re troubled.”

Empaths. They were dangerous to be around. Especially really gifted ones like Patrick.

“I’m fine,” she said firmly.

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

She was. She was fine. And she held on to that thought for the rest of the day until it was time to go home. She had a date tonight and the least she could do would be to show up for it even though all she really wanted to do was go home and crawl into her bed.

But forgetting that potion bottle was unforgivable and unprofessional. It bothered her.

Emma exited the PARA head office and headed toward her car in the parking lot—a blue Toyota Camry that had been in the shop yesterday, which was why she’d had to take the bus to New York. She pushed her key into the lock, but then stopped. A shiver went through her and gathered low in her body. Her nipples tightened and strained against her white shirt.

She bit her bottom lip. Uh, oh.

Her cell phone vibrated. She grabbed for it and held it to her ear. “Yes?”

“Miss me?”

Her jaw clenched. “Ryan.”

“You recognize my voice.”

“Where are you? I know you’re here.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can feel you.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Where are you right now?”

“Behind you.”

She looked over her shoulder to see him leaning against a nearby car and her grip tightened on the phone. He removed his phone from his ear and tucked it into the pocket of his leather jacket.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” he said.

She pressed the Disconnect button on her phone and tossed it into her purse. Lust potions were very powerful, in case she had any question about that. She was the living proof that being within twenty feet of Ryan made her desperate for him.

She eyed him wearily. “Just leave me alone, Ryan. I have a date tonight and it’s definitely not with you.”

His gaze remained fixed on her. “I dreamed about you last night.”

“Good dream or bad?”

“Very good.” There was a dozen feet between them and yet it felt as if he was right next to her. He rubbed his temples and looked pained for a moment. “This is more difficult than I thought it would be. Being this close to you feels…dangerous.”

“I might not like you, but I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Who said you were the one in danger?” He grinned a little.

She glanced around. “You really need to go, Ryan. If anyone sees you…”

“They’ll firmly escort me off the premises?”

“If you’re lucky.”

“I just wanted to see you again. I…needed to see you again.”

The desperate tone in his voice gave her an unexpected inner thrill. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to give you something.”

He drew closer. She found that she wasn’t scurrying back into the office like she probably should. Instead she pressed back against her car door as he came within a couple of feet from her. Her heart rate increased and her skin warmed.

She watched him carefully. From the heated look in his gaze to the sight of his chest moving with rapid breathing, it was obvious she affected him as much as he affected her.

Dangerous indeed.

He reached for her hand, taking it in his. The contact left her breathless. The potion’s effects hadn’t faded a bit from yesterday. If anything, this strong lust she felt for her former partner had gotten stronger. He moved closer still. She was certain he was going to kiss her, to press his mouth against hers. And she was going to let him do more than that.

“What do you want to give me?” she whispered, when his lips were only an inch away from hers. She braced her right hand against his firm chest so she could feel the pounding of his heart.

“You forgot something last night.”

She felt a press of something cold and hard in the palm of her left hand and she looked down to see the green potion bottle.

He’d come all the way back to Mystic Ridge to return the bottle of Desidero potion to her.

“Ryan…” she whispered, not sure if she was going to thank him or ask why he’d bothered.

“Later, Em.” He turned and walked away. The moment he was out of view, she leaned against her car door, the only thing currently keeping her vertical. Every cell in her body had urged her to throw her arms around him, kiss him, undress him. It didn’t matter that they were right in the middle of the PARA employee parking lot. Her body burned for him to be inside of her.

It was very inconvenient.

And she had a funny feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of him.



IT WOULD HAVE BEEN MUCH simpler for Ryan to leave the bottle on Emma’s doorstep so she could find it, take it back to PARA and say her assignment was completed successfully. It hadn’t been necessary for him to deliver it in person, he thought.

What had started off as a bit of a joke, a small amusement for him after so many months of being alone, had gotten serious damn fast. As much as he wanted Emma, she simply wasn’t in his grand plan. Every minute he spent here in Mystic Ridge was one less minute he’d spend investigating who was really behind the crimes of which he’d been accused. He had a list of stolen items he’d been tracking. Six in total. He’d found only two of them so far—an enchanted amulet and an urn—in the collections of rich men with too much time and money on their side.

He was certain Xavier Franklin, a known collector of glassware, was in possession of a missing vase, but hadn’t been able to officially confirm that at the party. He’d have to go back and question the billionaire as soon as he could.

Ryan’s confidence in his plan had faded with each month that passed. It seemed as if everyone had moved on except him.

He wondered sometimes why he refused to give up. Why not just head down to Florida early? Down there he could start over. He’d make new friends, find a beautiful woman who could look at him without doubt or disappointment in her eyes, and make a new life for himself once and for all.

Yes, that’s exactly what he was going to do.

But not just yet.

First he had clear his name. It was the principle of the thing.

He didn’t even really fault Emma’s immediate assumption that he was guilty. It wasn’t common knowledge, but Ryan did have a bit of a shady history. Fifteen years ago, he’d fallen in with his brother’s friends, a tough group of kids who jacked cars and sold the parts. Ryan was one of the unlucky ones who’d been busted for it.

The cop who’d nabbed him took pity on a seventeenyear-old kid who was missing the right direction in his life and helped to keep him out of jail, helped him see that the path he was on was one that would only lead to more trouble. Ryan hadn’t stolen anything since. He’d learned his lesson. But those he’d trusted and told about his past would know that his being light-fingered was a definite possibility.

He stayed in touch with the cop for years. The man had been like a father to him in his late teens and early twenties and had helped keep Ryan on the straight and narrow. It had a whole lot to do with the man’s influence that Ryan was going this extra mile to clear his name.

He missed the old guy. In fact, Ryan still visited his grave every other weekend.

But it hadn’t made anything easier over the last six months, knowing right from wrong.

It had even occurred to him a couple of times that he should live up to his reputation and start to steal again. If he was considered a thief by everyone, he may as well make a profit at it.

But it just wasn’t in his nature anymore.

It wasn’t in his brother’s nature anymore either. Joe had cleaned up years ago and started the business down south. He was the one who’d asked Ryan for help, knowing Ryan’s gift with cars.

So Ryan endeavored to prove his innocence, to make that cop who’d been his one good influence in his youth proud, even beyond the grave. But he kept coming up against brick walls every direction he turned.

“Brick walls are a hell of a lot better than jail cells,” he mumbled as he drove his Mustang away from just down the block from where he’d left Emma.

Ryan wanted to get back to working at clearing his name as soon as possible, but he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to his favorite stubborn redhead just yet. They had some unfinished business between them to take care of first.




5


TALL, DARK AND HANDSOME. Yes, Leo Barker was definitely all that.

Emma gazed past her glass of red wine and across the table at her date. Leo was new in town. Thirty-two, gorgeous, a local orthodontist. He drove a Mercedes. If Mystic Ridge had a list of eligible bachelors, there was no doubt Leo would be right at the top.

They’d met last week at the grocery store when their carts had collided.

A total small-town love story in the making, she thought.

They were having dinner at a small but elegant Italian restaurant, newly opened in a converted Victorian house. It held fifteen tables at the most in a dimly lit dining area, red tablecloths and candles decorating each table. There was even violin music. It was all very romantic.

Even though Emma was dealing with the affects of a potion that made her desperately lust after another man whenever he was close by, she really didn’t see any reason why she should cancel the date. After her confrontation with Ryan, she quickly delivered the bottle of Desidero potion to the PARA potions department, and then rushed home to get ready—hair, make-up, the works. She picked out a low-cut teal blouse that made her hair look even more vibrantly red, and a black pencil skirt that helped her legs look just a bit longer. Black stilettos, no hose. She was good to go.




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